Pledge
by Lament
Summary: Eric and Calleigh try to bridge the gap in their relationship. Takes place after "Killer Date" and "Whacked."


Title: Pledge

Disclaimer: Not mine. Sigh.

Author's Notes: This is an attempt to resolve some of the problematic issues of this past season. Specifically, this deals with "Killer Date" and "Whacked." And of course, "Lost Son." This takes place before the finale.

* * *

"I think I should've gone with mint green." 

She's _got _to be kidding.

Eric twists his body around until his eyes land on Calleigh. She's standing a few feet away, her hands resting on denim-covered hips and her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. She's gazing serenely at her newly-covered pale yellow walls, walls she and Eric have just spent the past several hours painting.

Raising his eyebrows, Eric says, "You're kidding, right?"

Calleigh turns her head toward Eric and grins mischievously. "I'm kidding," she says.

"Cute, Cal." Eric laughs, rolling his eyes. "Real cute." Shaking his head, Eric returns to the task at hand. He firmly grips the paint roller and stretches his arm up toward the ceiling. As far as Eric is concerned, it doesn't look too bad. They'll probably need to touch up the edge near the doorframe, but all in all, not bad.

Normally, Eric would gripe about sacrificing a rare weekend off to paint someone's bedroom. But when Calleigh cornered him in the locker room and asked him so sweetly…how could he say no? To be honest, Eric was more than a little surprised that Calleigh even asked for his help today. Lately, their relationship has been a little rocky. Since Speed died, Eric has felt Calleigh gradually slipping away from him. It didn't make sense, really. You'd think that during a time of pain and loss, they'd only grow closer. But as the weeks wore on, the gaping wound that Speed left seemed to grow more expansive, and Eric found his connection with Calleigh growing more and more tenuous. Sometimes, Eric can't help but feel as though three people were murdered the day Speed got shot.

Folding her arms across her chest, Calleigh wanders around the room. "I think this is going to look nice once we get the furniture in here."

"Yeah," Eric says, leaning over to dip his roller into the paint pan. Chuckling, he adds, "I can hardly wait to lug that heavy bed back in here." When Calleigh shoots him a mock-glare, Eric says, "Come on, Cal. Why can't you have a nice, _light _bed?"

Calleigh stands up a little straighter. "It was my grandmother's, Eric. I _love_ that bed." She smiles wistfully. "I like the carved wood and the how it sits so high off the ground. It's just a _good_ bed."

"Well," Eric says. "We could've left it in here at least. Pushed it to the middle of the room, tossed a drop cloth over it."

"And gotten paint on it?"

Eric shrugs. "The mattress alone weighs a ton."

"Well, you should feel how comfortable it is."

Eric glances up at Calleigh, an irrational blush settling in his cheeks. "I'll take your word for it," he grins.

Calleigh clears her throat and goes back to walking the room.

Smiling to himself, Eric continues to apply their final coat. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices that Calleigh has stopped a few feet away and is watching him, an odd look in her eye. With a smirk, he says, "So am I painting the room by myself?"

"Sorry," Calleigh says, covering her mouth with one hand. "I was off in outer space, wasn't I?"

"No, no," he says. "It's okay. But I'm starting to think you just asked me here today so you could check me out while I do all this manual labor."

Calleigh doesn't say anything. Instead, she just flashes a thin smile and silently walks across the room to retrieve her paint roller. So maybe that wasn't the best thing to say, considering the recent revelations about Eric's personal life. Eric wonders if Cal will ever respect him again, let alone think of him as more than a friend or colleague. Gritting his teeth, he turns back to the pale yellow wall.

* * *

"Hey, Cal," Eric says, glancing over his shoulder. "Can you hand me that rag. Got paint all over my hand." 

With a flick of her wrist, Calleigh tosses Eric a relatively-clean rag. "Eric," she says, fighting a grin. "You're worse than a pre-schooler with finger paint."

Shooting her a mock-glare, Eric savagely rubs the cloth over his pale-yellow-tinged fingers. "You're hysterical, Cal," he says. "You know, I was thinking. Maybe we ought to take a break."

"Nice try, Eric," Calleigh says. "We're almost done. We just have to touch up this spot by the door frame, and I think we're finished. _Then _we can take a break, okay?"

"Well, you're buying me dinner," he grouses.

"I said I would, grouchy."

Eric tosses the soiled rag into an empty paint can. "I'm not being grouchy, Cal," he says. "I was joking."

"Eric," she soothes, "I know that. Relax. I was joking, too."

He gazes at Calleigh for a moment, and then he flashes a brief smile and snatches up a clean paintbrush.

Calleigh lets out a breath. Asking Eric over to help her paint today was part of her master plan to heal the emotional rift between them. It doesn't seem to be doing much good, though. Lately, it feels like they've been walking on eggshells around each other all the time. Sure, they talk. But they don't _really_ talk. Not about anything substantial, anyway. The past few months, so many things have been left unsaid between them, so many words lost to grief or fear or anger.

Licking her bottom lip, Calleigh takes a step toward Eric. "Instead of us going out, what if I cooked you dinner?"

Eric gazes at her for a moment. "You're going to cook me dinner? What are you going to cook?"

"Well," she smiles. "My culinary expertise is limited to spaghetti and a wide variety of boxed dinners."

With a genuine burst of laughter, Eric says, "Spaghetti it is."

* * *

Eric rests his work-weary body against the counter, watching Calleigh as she chops a stalk of celery into bite-sized pieces. Propping his elbows against the gold-and-white-specked surface, he leans closer and asks, "Can I help?" 

"You can get in the fridge and get me the cherry tomatoes," she says.

Nodding, Eric trudges over the refrigerator and tugs it open with two fingers. Once he finds the tomatoes, he walks over to Calleigh and places them on the counter. "So," he says, taking a breath, "Have you been to his grave?"

Calleigh keeps her eyes focused on the cutting board. "Speedle's? Once. You?"

"Yeah," Eric says. "I don't think H has been."

"I don't know." Calleigh scoops up the chopped celery with both hands and throws it into the bowl. "Could you get me the parmesan cheese from the fridge? I know. You were just there."

"Anything else you want from in here?" Eric asks. "You want carrots?"

"If you want carrots," Calleigh says.

With the cheese and carrots in hand, Eric nudges the refrigerator door closed. "I found one of his CDs he left in my car when we drove out to the Keys over the summer.".

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Eric says. "I was thinking, you know. I kept trying to convince him to let me take him diving—not when we went to the Keys, but in general. He kept saying no, but I thought it would've been good for him. He didn't like the water much, you know?"

Calleigh stops chopping, "Eric," she says roughly. "Do we have to talk about this?"

Eric licks his lips. "No, I guess not." He stands in the middle of the kitchen, silently watching Calleigh chop up the carrots. Finally, he says, "You know, we never talk about him."

Letting out a breath, Calleigh says, "It seems like we've been doing nothing _but _talking about him lately."

"How do you figure?" Eric takes a step forward. "What? Because we worked on one of his old cases last week? You telling me to move on is hardly the same thing as actually talking about the guy."

Calleigh lays the knife down on the cutting board. "What is there to say, Eric? He's gone."

Snatching a balled-up paper towel from the counter, Eric pitches it toward the trash can. "So, we'll act like he never existed? Come on, he was a part of our lives, Cal. He was my best friend."

"Eric," she says, exhaustion lacing her voice. "I'm just trying not to dwell on it."

Eric clenches his jaw for a moment, and then quietly says, "I'm not dwelling. I'm just trying to make sense of this." He leans against the counter. "I want to be able to remember him. You know?"

Calleigh squeezes Eric's hand. "I know," she says. "I guess I'm just not ready to talk about it, yet."

Nodding, Eric says, "Avoiding it isn't going to make it go away, Calleigh. Believe me."

"I know," she says. Letting out haggard breath, Calleigh goes back to chopping the carrots.

* * *

Eric lays his head back against the couch. "Dinner was great, Cal," he says. 

Calleigh maneuvers between the coffee table and the couch and sits down next to Eric. "It was okay?"

"Yeah," he says, stretching slightly. "It was good. You know, I'm glad you asked me here today. I thought I saw the real Calleigh peek out a few times."

Calleigh narrows her eyes. "Hmm?"

"The Calleigh I remember used to laugh and smile all the time. You haven't been doing that lately."

"Eric…"

"Speed and I used to gripe about it all the time," Eric says. "But we knew it was part of who you were. You could find the good in almost anything. Even a hurricane. Remember that?"

"Well," she says. "I'm a little more realistic now."

"Realistic? Is that what you call it?" Eric reaches over and casually twirls a piece of Calleigh's hair around his finger.

Pushing his hand away, she says, "Eric, come one. We can't go there."

"We can't go there," Eric says. It's not a question; it's a declaration of defeat. After a moment, he sits up and turns to face Calleigh. "There's something I need to ask you."

"Ask away," Calleigh says.

Eric takes a deep breath, and then slowly releases it. After a moment, he says, "Are we okay?"

"What do you mean?" Calleigh asks, folding her arms firmly across her chest.

"I mean you and me," Eric stammers. "In light of the…incident with my badge, I was, uh, wondering if we're okay."

Trying to summon up her most professional tone, Calleigh says, "Eric, we're fine. You're a good CSI, and you're a good friend." She nods, as if that settles the matter.

Eric tightens his jaw. "Cal," he says in a thick voice. "I'm not talking about our professional relationship or our friendship, and you know that."

Calleigh hugs herself tighter.

For quite a while, Eric and Calleigh have had an unspoken agreement. They both know they want more than friendship, but neither of them has ever been ready to make that move. There have been a lot of near misses and awkward conversations, but they've always found a reason to put on the breaks before things go too far. At first, they rationalized that it was because of Speed and Horatio. If Eric and Calleigh had become involved, the team dynamic could have been compromised. Not to mention the fact that Horatio probably wouldn't allow them to continue working together if they _were_ in a relationship. Still, neither Calleigh nor Eric ever doubted that they _would _eventually take that step. And there was always a comfort in knowing that when they wereready, that possibility was there.

"Eric," Calleigh says. "There are a variety of reasons why—"

"There have always been a variety of reasons, Calleigh," Eric says, scooting his body closer to hers. "I'm not asking for some kind of massive declaration. Neither one of us is in the place where we can do that. I just want to know if we still have a chance."

"Eric, I—"

"Or am I tainted in your eyes?" Eric asks, his voice breaking in a way that jolts Calleigh.

When she first found out about Eric's…creative handling of his grief, Calleigh was disappointed in him, to be sure. Why would he risk his life and his job? Was it because he was angry with Tim for leaving him? Was he angry with himself because he wasn't the one who died in the shooting? And by the same token, what is it that really bothers Calleigh? The danger he put himself in? Or is it that Eric couldn't find whatever he needed in her?

Calleigh reaches out to take Eric's hand, but stops, somehow frightened of the intimacy. "Eric," she says, clearing her throat. "You're not tainted. I'm not going to pretend I understand what's been going on in your head lately. But I meant what I said the other day. I _trust _you. Completely. Okay?"

Eric blinks hard. "You haven't really answered my question," he says. "I need to know, Calleigh. Is there a chance for us?"

Calleigh swallows. Ignoring the voice in her head that keeps screaming that she should put some distance between her and Eric, she places a hand on each of Eric's shoulders. "I'm not going to lie to you," she says. "I'm hurt, and I'm disappointed that you would put yourself at risk. And it's going to take me some time to get over it." She takes a breath. "But I will get over it, Eric."

Slowly, she leans forward and presses her lips to Eric's. It's not exactly a chaste kiss, but neither is it some precursor to wild abandon. Rather, it's a promise, a pledge that Calleigh's not giving up on them just yet. Pulling away from him, Calleigh smiles and says, "I'd never live it down if I let a catch like you go."


End file.
